Before the Anklet
by KP02
Summary: Something that I randomly wrote...Basically, Neal Caffrey steals a painting and Nate Weston is investigated for it, which makes Michael come to the rescue! May have appearences from my other favorite shows.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

'When In Rome...'

Neal Caffrey got out of a taxi, looking up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and grinned at the two gorgeous Roman women walking by. They both smiled back, then walked into the museum, whispering to each other. Neal shook his head, then opened his cell phone and pressed speed dial #3.

"Hey, Moz, it's me." He said by way of greeting. Immediately, Mozzie's voice came through the speaker.

"Neal do you have any idea how little security a hotel room has? Why don't we have a safe house in Rome yet?" He asked. Neal smiled.

"Lighten up Mozzie! Go meet a beautiful woman and soak up some of the local flavor!" He said, walking down the sidewalk emitting stares from women. Indeed, in his black Armani suit and red tie, he looked like an ordinary man there in business, albeit a very handsome one.

"Listen Mozzie," He said, interrupting the man on the other end. "Please just tell me that you have the info on the museum."

"Do I have the info? Of course I have the info!" Mozzie's outraged voice came through the phone. Neal grinned once more.

"I'm sorry I doubted you Moz. I'll be there in a few." Neal said, entering an upscale hotel made to look like an old Roman inn.

"May I take your bag, sir?" A young bellhop asked. Neal shook his head, holding onto his suitcase a little tighter.

"No thanks." He replied and walked up to the front desk, where a perky young blond stood. Neal nodded at him.

"Listen, my friend rented a room and failed to tell me which one. Is there anyway you could tell me and give me a room card?" He asked smoothly. The woman pursed her lips then nodded.

"I suppose I could do it as a special favor." She said flirtatiously. He grinned at her.

"The name is Harold Manning." He said, then glanced around the room. After noting that there was no one who looked remotely like any kind of policeman, he relaxed enough to flirt with the woman until she handed him the room key with a wink.

"Thank you very much." He said, then started upstairs, still carrying his suitcase. Glancing at the room key, he saw that the room number was 209.

"Not exactly the penthouse." He muttered as he pressed the elevator button.

Upstairs, he quickly opened the door and slipped in, then glanced around the room. No one was there, which he already knew. Manning had an established routine, even after only a week, and he always went to lunch at this time of day. Pulling a stethoscope out of his bag, he glanced at the safe in a corner and grinned.

_**Meanwhile, in the U.S...**_

Peter Burke looked down at the papers in front of him, trying to make sense of it all. So far there had been twenty alleged sightings of Neal just today. Obviously Neal was planning something big, but what? Sighing, he grabbed a map of the world and started highlighting the cities where the sightings had been.

An hour later, he sat back and stared at the map. Ten more sightings had been called in while he worked and he had added those as well. There were pink highlighted spots all over the map, except in one place. Rome. Peter grinned and logged onto his computer. It was time to learn what Neal was up to now.

_**In a hotel room in Rome...**_

Neal Caffrey looked down at the blueprints he had stolen from the safe. They outlined the entire museum, from entrances and exits to where the exhibits and security cameras were. The blueprints were an art thief's dream. He thoughtfully tapped one of the exits.

"This door has minimal security. All we would need was a security code and I could handle the cameras." He said, but Mozzie shook his head.

"No, we need something a little more obvious. After all, you wanted this to say hello to the suit." He replied, then pointed at the main entrance. "You can go in here while the museum's open. I'll get some custodian clothes and you can get a cart from the supply closet. You should be able to find a place to stay until the museum closes. After that, you should be able to move around freely as long as you avoid cameras." He said. Neal nodded, serious for once.

"That should do it. Good work Moz!" He said, then got up.

"Where are you going?" Mozzie asked as Neal put on his jacket.

"To go find some custodian clothes." Neal replied with a wink. Mozzie sighed heavily and sat back in his seat.

"Yeah, and I'm an ardvark." He muttered. Neal shrugged.

"When in Rome..." He said in a sing-song voice as he walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

'The Silver Lining.'

Peter Burke yawned as he listened to the on hold music for the Roman special services. So far he had been on hold for a total of three hours. Glancing at his watch, he realized that he was severely late for dinner. He yawned again, then stood and stretched, seriously considering hanging up the phone and trying again the next day. Then he heard a voice coming from the phone.

"Hello, special services." It was saying. Peter grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

"Yes, hello. I have some information for you concerning one of your museums." He said professionally.

"All right, which one?"

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art." Peter replied.

"What about it?"

"It's going to be robbed." He said seriously. Immediately, laughter came from the other end.

"Oh, you are very funny sir." The voice said. Peter bristled.

"What's so funny?"

"That museum has the most advanced security in the country. Nobody can rob it." Peter shook his head.

"Trust me, it can and it will be." He said.

"All right, thank you for the call sir. We shall take your concerns into consideration." The voice said, then hung up. Peter sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He knew Neal was about to rob the museum, but short of going to Rome himself, there was nothing he could do. Finally, he decided to go home to wife and worry about it tomorrow.

_**The Next Day in Rome...**_

Neal Caffrey walked into the museum, his black hat on his head and his hands in his the pockets of his designer suit. Whistling softly, he made his way through a crowd of tourists and school kids to the front desk.

"Hi there, can you direct me to the manager's office?" He asked. The middle-aged man behind the counter nodded and pointed to a door in a small alcove near the entrance.

"It is right there." He said with a heavy accent. Neal smiled.

"Thank you very much." He said, then started towards the door. He and Mozzie had decided to save their earlier plan and go with a much more subtle one, which involved Neal staying at their hotel room painting for the next three days. After knocking on the door, which had an unassuming plaque on it reading 'manager', he leaned against the wall and waited, a faraway look in his eye. He didn't have to wait long before the door was opened by an older man with brilliant blue eyes and brown hair.

"Yes, how may I help you?" He asked. Neal smiled at him congenially.

"I have some business to discuss with you. Perhaps we should step into your office?" He said. The man nodded and waved Neal in, then invited him to sit before going behind his own desk and sitting.

"What can I do for you, Mr..." The man said and Neal glanced at the man's nameplate.

"Nate Weston. And the question is, what can I do for you, Mr. Gaius." He replied, leaning back in his chair. "You see, I am with a company that specializes in cleaning old paintings with non-abrasive chemicals that don't harm the painting at all." He said. Gaius nodded, stroking his chin.

"Interesting. And how much would this cost?" He questioned. Neal was prepared for this and he leaned forward in his chair.

"We can do it for a thousand dollars." He said earnestly. Now Gaius looked interested.

"Indeed... Do you have any credentials?" Neal pulled out a brochure as well as a copy of a business license.

"I have these." He replied and the manager looked them over quickly.

"Well it appears as though this is all in order. Perhaps you should go through the museum and look over all of the paintings to decide which ones need your attention." Neal smiled.

"I already have and only one painting caught my eye. The Rembrandt appears to be in serious need of our services." He replied confidently. Gaius nodded.

"All right then. I'll have it ready for you to take tomorrow and we can close off that exhibit until you return it. How long should this take?" He asked. Neal acted as though he were thinking for a moment.

"Probably three days." He answered.

"Well then I'll see you tomorrow Mr. Weston." Gaius said, then quickly ushered Neal out of the office. Neal left thinking that it had been much too easy. Of course, some cons were like that, while others were just an outright failure. As he started out the door, the gift shop caught his eye with a rack of cards. He turned and went in, making a beeline for the cards. Peter Burke's birthday was in a few days, and Neal liked to show a little appreciation for how hard the FBI agent was working to catch him. He turned the rack idly with one finger until one caught his eye. It had a picture of the very painting he intended to steal on the front and was blank on the inside. Neal took that one and went to the counter to pay. While there he made sure to look right at the security camera and smile big. After all, he did have an audience.

_**Peter Burke's Office, U.S.**_

Peter Burke sighed and took a sip of coffee as he stared at the file in front of him. Neal Caffrey's file was thick with suspected crimes. However, Peter couldn't pin one of them on the smooth conman. Other than Peter's suspicions, there wasn't any proof. Unfortunately, Neal was good. Peter sighed again, then started going through the papers, hoping to find something he hadn't seen the last hundred times he'd gone through only silver lining on the cloud that was Neal was the fact that no one was perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

'Who Did It?'

Neal Caffrey sat at a bar with three women around him. He was entertaining them with a story of an adventure in Spain when his phone rang. Looking down at it, he groaned.

"Excuse me ladies, but I have to take this." He said with a charming smile, "Just order another round of drinks, on me of course." He quickly walked out, flipping the phone open as he did so.

"What's up Moz?" He asked, standing outside on the sidewalk.

"We're gonna have to do it tonight." Mozzie's excited voice came through the phone.

"What? Why? And how am I gonna get in? It's closed!" Neal replied, irritated.

"Listen, I'm not going to explain the details over a phone line that's probably insecure. Just come back to the room and I'll tell you everything." Mozzie said, then immediately hung up. Neal shook his head at the paranoid little man, then hailed a taxi, casting a regretful look through the window at the three women at the bar. They'd have to pay for themselves now.

_**Later that Night...**_

Neal slipped into the museum through the janitor's door, dressed in maintenance man's clothes with a baseball cap pulled down low.

"This is never going to work." He mumbled, knowing the the speaker in his collar would pick up his words and send them straight to Mozzie.

"Sure it will. It's as easy as quantum theory." Mozzie replied confidently. Neal grinned.

"I never was too good at school." He said, grabbing a cleaning cart.

"Shut up and hurry! You have twenty minutes to get in and out." Mozzie warned. Neal rolled his eyes and continued walking. He was stopped by a different janitor as he went through a break room.

"Hey, who are you?" The man asked suspiciously. Neal smiled confidently and held out one hand.

"Name's Nate Weston. I'm the new night janitor. Mr. Gauis thought you could use some help around here." He said smoothly. The man nodded slowly and took Neal's hand.

"Heath Turk." He said. Neal nodded.

"Well, I've gotta get going. Lots of bathrooms." He said, then walked out into the museum's lobby. Now all he had to do was manuver around hundreds of security cameras, figure out how to get the painting down without triggering an alarm, and get out of the building with it. He grinned. Piece of cake.

_**Small Cafe, U.S.A.**_

Peter Burke looked across the table at his wife, Elizabeth and grinned. She smiled back.

"What are you thinking about honey?" She asked. He leaned his elbow on the table.

"About how beautiful you are." He replied. She smiled and started to reply, but the shrill ring of his phone interrupted. He glanced down at it, then looked at her apollegetically.

"I'm sorry..." He started, but she waved her hand at him.

"Don't worry. We'll finish this conversation later." She said. He pointed his finger at her.

"I'll hold you to that." He said, then flipped open his phone. "Hey Jones, what's going on?" He waited a few moments, then jumped up from the table.

"He what? I'll be there in a few." He said, then kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. "I'll see you later hon." He said, then all but ran to his car. She watched him go, then shook her head and hailed the waiter.

Back at the office, Peter looked at the picture from the crime scene in Rome and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Neal had really outdone himself this time. In place of the Rembrandt was a picture of the FBI logo. _Tell them I said Hi!_ was written beneath it. Nothing about it told who had done it, except for Peter's instincts. Peter sighed and put the pictures down on his desk.

"Go dig up anything you can on this." He ordered Jones, who handed him a folder.

"Already did. This is a record of anything and everything I could find." He said confidently. Peter took it and started flipping through it, taking a sip of the horrid coffee as he did so.

"This is interesting." He said, stopping at the maintenance man's statement. "He said the man introduced himself as Nate Weston." Snapping the folder closed, he tossed it on his desk. "Let's see if we can pick anything up on Nate Weston. There's probably nothing there, but it's worth a shot." He said confidently. Diana walked in just then.

"Here's the info on Nate Weston." She said, holding out another folder. Peter grinned at her.

"Thank you very much." He said, then started to flip through that one as well. After a few moments, he glanced up, a look of shock on his face.

"This is very interesting." He said. "His brother is Michael Weston."

"Whose that?" Jones asked.

"He's the best of the best." Peter replied distractedly, he was already reading the file again.

"Is he in the white collar unit?" Jones asked. Diana shook her head.

"No. He's a spy. And a good one. I heard he was burned a while back though." She replied. Peter nodded, then held up a hand.

"It appears that Nate Weston has gambling debts." He said, then snapped it closed. "Let's pay him a visit."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So, I was mistaken. It wasn't a Rembrandt Neal stole, it was a Raphael. Sorry for the mistake!

Chapter 4

'A Little Phone Call'

_**Miami, Florida**_

In an abandoned looking warehouse, two people bent over some pictures on a counter. One was a serious-looking man, he was eating a carton of yogurt. The other was a gorgeous woman who was cleaning a pistol. The peaceful scene was interrupted by a man bursting in the door. Immediately, both people pulled guns and pointed them at the man. He raised his hands.

"Whoa. Put the guns down." He said calmly. They relaxed and set the guns down on the counter, the woman rather reluctantly.

"What's up, Sam?" The man with the yogurt asked. The man who had burst in took a deep breath.

"I just got a call from a buddy. The Feds are investigating your brother, Michael." He said. Michael put down his yogurt.

"What for?" He asked.

"Looks like they think he stole a Raphael a few days ago." Sam replied. Michael shook his head.

"He couldn't have done that. He was helping us with the job." He said, then grimaced. "Which means he doesn't have an alibi. Do you have any idea who did steal it?" He questioned. Sam shook his head.

"For all I know, he did steal it." He replied and Michael gave him a hard look.

"Where was it stolen from?" The woman asked.

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art in Rome." Sam replied. She nodded.

"Well, let's find out some details." Michael said grimly, knowing that in the next few hours he would be getting paniced phone calls from his brother and his mother.

_**Undisclosed Location**_

Mozzie carefully slid the precious painting into a protective box, then put that into a larger storage box.

"Well, that's over with. What's next?" Neal asked, his blue eyes twinkling. Mozzie sighed.

"Next we take a break, drink some wine and listen to classical music." He said, his spirits lifting. Neal pushed himself off of the crate he was leaning on.

"'As fun as that sounds, I think I'm going to go soak up some of the nightlife." He replied. Mozzie shook his head.

"Fine with me. Tell Alex I said hi." He said. Neal looked at him innocently.

"Why did you think I was going to see Alex?" He asked. Mozzie rolled his eyes.

"Just go. Don't forget to mail the postcard." He said to Neal's back.

"What postcard?" Came floating back to him. Mozzie huffed.

"What postcard. Stupid kid thinks I was born yesterday." Despite his harsh words, Mozzie's look carried a level of fondness. Neal had become like a son to him, but even he couldn't figure out was going on in Neal's head most of the time. Sighing, he headed out into the pouring rain and headed for his apartment.

_**Peter Burke's House, New York**_

Peter Burke lay in bed, thinking. If he was Neal and had just pulled off a big heist, where would he go? The logical thing to do would be to get as far away from the site of the crime as humanly possible. But this was Neal, so he was probably nearby. He sighed and rolled over, willing himself to stop thinking about the case for the night. Beside him, El was sleeping peacefully and he tried to join her. However, every time he was almost asleep, another idea would poke into his head. Finally he sighed again and quietly rolled out of bed, heading for the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help.

The next morning, Peter woke up on the couch, Neal's file spread on the coffee table. He groaned and rubbed his hand over the five 'o' clock shadow he had on his chin. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was still early enough that he might be able to convince El he had been in bed all night. Getting up slowly, he stretched, then made his way upstairs and slipped into bed.

"Where've you been?" Elizabeth's sleepy voice came from the other side of the bed. He winced. He never had been able to pull one over on her.

"On the couch. Couldn't sleep." He replied softly. She rolled over and smiled at him.

"You mean, you were working." She said. He smiled sheepishly.

"Only a little." He replied. She shook her head.

"At least promise you'll take off for your birthday." She scolded. He held up his right hand.

"I promise I will take off on my birthday, as long as there isn't an emergency." He said solenmly. She rolled her eyes.

"I guess that's the best I'm gonna get." She said resignedly, then pushed him out of bed. "Now go to work!" Peter groaned and stumbled into the bathroom. Sometimes he wished he had never gotten married...


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"An New Job"

_**Gambling House, New York**_

Neal Caffrey grinned at the dealer and carelessly tossed in two more chips.

"I'll bet a thousand." He said lazily, knowing that he was going to win. Not only did the four aces up his sleeve assure him of that, but he had a very good hand. The men around the table murmured, but each of them ended up meeting his bet. He sighed. This was getting boring. He needed a little more excitement, something that stimulated his mind. After the hand was over, he left the table and restlessly wandered the small casino. He finally walked out the door into the misty early morning. He started down the street, flipping open his phone as he went.

"Hey, Moz! You got anything for me?" He asked.

"I told you, I'd call if I did." Mozzie's annoyed voice came over the line. Neal sighed again.

"I'm bored out of my mind! Isn't there even a small job?" He questioned. Mozzie heaved a deep breath, sending static over the line.

"Hold on." He said and Neal could hear the rustle of papers being moved.

"All right, here we go. Botluck called. He needs a guy for something. Didn't say what. I told him no, because of the whole Australia thing." Mozzie said. Neal winced.

"Yeah, that could have gone better." He said, withholding a shudder. Dingoes did not like their caves to be invaded.

"Anyway, I've got his number right here if you want it." Mozzie said. Neal leaned against a light post.

"Yeah, sure. As long as it gives me something to do." He replied. Mozzie read off the number while Neal hastily scribbled it on the back of a receipt.

"All right, thanks Moz." Neal said.

"Yeah, yeah… Now I'm going to go finish my wine." Mozzie griped. Neal chuckled and hung up the phone. Unlike him, Mozzie enjoyed relaxing after a big heist. To Neal, finishing one just meant that it was time to move onto another. He looked at his watch and grinned. Special Agent Peter Burke should be getting into the office soon, which meant he'd get the early birthday card Neal had sent him.

_**FBI Office, New York**_

Peter Burke walked into the office and stopped for a moment, relishing the feeling of confusion. All around him, agents were starting their day in the office, and he was happy to be among them. He shook his head and headed up the stairs to his office.

"Hey, you got something in the mail today." Jones said as he passed him on the stairs. "Looks like a birthday card." Diana said with a smile as she passed. Peter wrinkled his brow. Who would've sent him a card here? Most would have sent it to his house. He shrugged and entered his office. A simple white envelope was sitting on his desk. Before he opened it, he held it up to the light to see what was inside. Diana was right, it looked like a birthday card. He grabbed a letter opener off his desk and slit the envelope open, then drew out the card. On the front was a picture of the painting he suspected Neal of stealing. At that, his gut feeling started sounding an alarm. He opened the card, not expecting what he saw. These words were written in careful handwriting.

Agent Burke,

You should take a couple days off for your birthday.

I promise I won't go anywhere.

Sincerely, Neal

Peter could only stare for a moment, then he found his voice.

"Jones, Diana!" He roared. "I want to see the man who delivered this card!"

_**Small Café in New York**_

"Listen, Mikey, we don't know anything about this. You need to calm down and think for a moment." Sam said, taking a deep drink of his beer. Across the table, Michael was wearing a baseball cap pulled down low.

"I have thought about it. I've also thought about my brother going to prison. You know Nate. He wouldn't last a week in prison." Michael said, rubbing his hand over his face. Sam shrugged.

"So, whatcha gonna do about it?" He asked. Michael turned to the woman next to him.

"You bring any toys, Fiona?" He questioned. She took a sip of her drink.

"What do you think?" She retorted. He grinned.

"There's my girl." He said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own White Collar or Burn Notice. **

**A/N: Hey! Sorry it's taken so long to update, but I got to the end of my prewrite, and finals, and just life in general has been stopping me. :P Anyways, enjoy and please review!**

_**Apartment, New York**_

Neal Caffrey sat on a thrift store couch, flipping through security blueprints.

"This is gonna be easy." He muttered to himself. The store that Botluck wanted him to rob had minimal security and next to no cameras. He sighed and set the blueprints down. Mozzie looked up from where he was writing some sort of complicated math problem for reasons that Neal didn't know.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Mozzie asked with dread in his voice. Neal nodded and sighed again. Mozzie rolled his eyes.

"Just don't drag me into your scheme this time." He muttered, going back to his math problem. Neal grinned.

"That's fine." He said, then grabbed his coat. "I'm going out for a little while." He said. Mozzie waved absently.

"Have fun, don't get arrested." He said. Neal nodded.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice." He replied, then went out the door into the chilly air. Wrapping his coat a little tighter, Neal walked out onto the city streets, looking for excitement. After all, it was New York. Oftentimes, excitement lurked around every corner.

An hour later, Neal had learned that more than excitement lurked around the corner he had turned. A big man dressed in an obnoxious Hawaiian tourist shirt with a blackjack was there as well. Neal crumpled after the first hit.

_**Abandoned Warehouse, Miami**_

Michael looked down at the man in front of him. According to file Sam had acquired, his name was Neal Caffrey, and he was an art thief. Apparently, he wasn't very good at protecting himself, considering that Sam had gotten him in a dark alley. After that, they had driven back to Miami with Caffrey in the trunk. Michael sighed and threw a cup of water in the thief's face. The man woke immediately, spluttering and shaking his head. He then fixed his brilliant blue eyes on Michael.

"W-who are you?" He asked in a raspy voice. Michael shook his head, keeping his face grim.

"That's not important. What's important is why you're here." He tapped the file in his hand for emphasis. "Neal Caffrey, you've been a bad boy and there are a lot of good government people coming after you." He said. Caffrey looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

"You're not from the government." He replied. Michael was slightly surprised. Most victims didn't realize that right away, being more focused on where they were and how to get away.

"You're right. I'm not." Michael said, then left the room to allow Neal to ponder that. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Sam, who had been sitting drinking a beer and listening.

"You're sure this is the guy?" He questioned. Sam nodded.

"Yep. My buddy in the FBI said that this is the only one who could pull this off." He replied. Michael nodded and took a deep breath.

"I hope he's right."

Neal looked around the sparse room. The walls were made of metal sheeting, from which he assumed that he was in a warehouse. He was pretty sure he wasn't in New York anymore. It was extremely hot and rivulets of sweat were dripping down his face. With his hands tied, he couldn't wipe his face and that annoyed him. Putting that out of his mind, he concentrated on the handcuffs that held his hands to the chair. They seemed to be standard issue, not difficult to get out of if he had any type of tool. Unfortunately, the entire room was bare, there was nothing but him in his chair and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He sighed and leaned his head back, trying to think. His captors weren't from the FBI, so who were they? He went through the list of his possible enemies, but the list was short and most of them were in jail. He looked up when he heard the scrape of metal on metal. A man came through the door, a different one from the one before. Judging from the man's shirt, Neal assumed this was the one who had knocked him out.

"Where am I?" Neal demanded. The man grinned.

"You're in sunny Miami, Florida." He replied. Neal nodded.

"What do you want?" He asked next. The man shrugged.

"It's simple. Michael, the other guy, he thinks you stole a painting and framed his brother for it. Now he wants you to confess to the FBI so that his brother is off the hook." He explained. Neal furrowed his brow.

"I didn't frame anyone." He said, thinking aloud. He closed his eyes. _Nate Weston._ His own words came back to him as clear as daylight. He groaned.

"This guy, Michael, his brother wouldn't happen to be named Nate Weston, would he?" Neal asked. The man nodded.

"Yep, that's him." He said cheerfully, "so, you did frame him?" Neal shook his head.

"Not exactly." He said, then explained what had happened, that he had just pulled the name out of thin air and didn't know that it would implicate anyone. If anything, that was the last thing he wanted to do. The man listened intently, nodding at the appropriate places. Finally Neal finished and the man pushed himself off of where he was leaning on the wall.

"Well, you've got me convinced, but good luck with Michael. He doesn't trust anyone." He said, then walked out. Neal sighed and rested his chin on his chest. His arms had gone numb long ago, and he felt dirty and disgusting. He wished he could take a shower and put on his favorite jeans and black t-shirt. Instead, he forced himself to close his eyes and sleep. He had a feeling that he would need it.

_**FBI Office, New York**_

Peter Burke carefully watched the surveillance video for the reception area of the FBI building. Diana and Jones were sitting at the conference table, also watching. Peter saw a man with a hat pulled down low and raised his hand.

"Whoa, stop it there." He said, looking closely at the grainy video. Jones obeyed and Peter waved his hand.

"Zoom in." When Jones did, Peter knew it was Neal. He shook his head at the conman's audacity. Most suspected criminals wouldn't come within a five block radius of this building, yet he just waltzed right in as though he owned the place. A thought popped into Peter's head. He spun around.

"Go find the video feed for my office." He ordered. Jones nodded and hurried off. Peter stood looking at the frozen video.

"He's got guts." Peter muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Teamwork"

_**Café, Miami**_

Michael took a sip of his drink and sighed moodily. The interrogation process was not going like it should. Half the time Caffrey was smiling at Michael when he questioned him. Michael had seen a lot of things before in an interrogation room, but nothing like the art thief's smile.

"What's wrong, Michael?" Fiona asked from across the table. He shok his head.

"I've never seen anything like this Caffrey." He replied. Fiona smiled.

"I've been thinking about how to deal with him-" He cut her off.

"No, Fi, you may not shoot him or harm him. We want him alive for the Feds." He said quickly. She pouted for a moment.

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to suggest that I use my feminine wiles to get him to answer our questions." She said. Michael shrugged.

"It's worth a shot. But you're not allowed to take your gun in." He said. She sighed.

"You have so little faith in me."

_**Abandoned Warehouse, Miami**_

Neal looked up abruptly when the door to his prison opened.

"Listen, I've got an idea." He said before the woman who entered could say a word.

"I don't like this Nate guy taking credit for my work anymore than you do. I also don't want to get arrested. So, what if we turn the search away from both of us?" He asked. The woman leaned up against the wall.

"I'm listening." She said. He grinned and continued with his plan.

_**Peter Burke's House, New York**_

Peter leaned back in his chair and patted his full stomach.

"That was delicious." He said to his wife over the now empty table. She smiled.

"Why thank you." She said, and opened her mouth to say something more when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Peter said, pushing himself up. He opened the door to a kid that lived down the street.

"Some guy gave me five bucks to give this to you." The kid said, shoving a plain white envelope at Peter. Peter took it, knowing exactly who it was from. Immediately, the kid ran off. Peter closed the door and just stared at the letter as though it was going to do something.

"Honey, who was that?" Elizabeth asked, entering the living room. Peter shook his head.

"Nothing, just a letter." He said, then went about opening it. This card had a happy smile on the outside. On the inside in the same careful handwriting was written:

Agent Burke,

We should have lunch.

I've heard the café on Fifth has wonderful sandwiches.

I'll be there tomorrow at 1:00.

NC

Peter tossed the card onto the coffee table with a small grin. He had to admire the conman's audacity. Having lunch with an FBI agent was not something most criminals would do. Elizabeth picked up the card and read it quickly, then looked up with a raised eyebrow.

"Just don't be late for dinner." She said with a smile, then went to go clean up the kitchen. Peter grinned and got out his phone. Hughes would be angry if Peter didn't inform him of this development.

_**Café on Fifth, New York**_

Neal watched as Agent Peter Burke wove through the maze of tables and people to get to their table in the corner. Neal had been there for a few hours already and had noticed the two agents that had already arrived. Peter sat down on the opposite chair. Neal grinned at him.

"So nice to finally be face-to-face, Agent Burke." He said. Peter didn't return the smile.

"You broke into my office." He said. Neal shook his head.

"No, the lovely junior agent let me in." He replied. Peter scowled, then sighed.

"Fine, what do you want?" He asked. Neal peered around him to where the other two agents were sitting at a table.

"Do you want to ask your other friends to join us? I'm sure they could hear better that way." He replied. Peter glowered at him.

"They're fine. What do you want?" He questioned. At that moment, a server appeared.

"Can I take your order?" She questioned. Neal nodded, savoring Peter's discomfort.

"Yeah, I'd like turkey on a croissant, and whatever your best wine is." He said, then noticed Peter glaring at him. "And my friend will have a beer and a deviled ham sandwich." Neal finished mischievously. Now Peter looked murderous. The waitress nodded and walked away.

"How did you-" Peter hissed, then shook his head. "Never mind. Just tell me why you wanted to have lunch." Neal spread his hands.

"Can't a guy just want to get to know the man who's trying to pin a crime on him?" He asked innocently. Peter just stared at him and Neal rolled his eyes.

"So serious. Fine, you know that Raphael that you want to pin on me?" H asked. Peter nodded, then raised a finger.

"How did you know it had been stolen?" He asked. Neal sighed.

"Hypothetically, if I was involved with the crime scene for some reason, wouldn't I have contacts?" He said, annoyed. Peter nodded.

"Now, about the Raphael." Peter said. Neal nodded.

"Right. I heard through my various contacts that you're trying to find a vic-I mean a suspect." Neal said. Peter nodded.

"Yep." He said.

"Hypothetically, I may know who you're blaming." Neal said. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, besides me. Which, I'm not sure why. After all, I've never done anything like that." Neal said quickly. Peter just rolled his eyes.

"Get on with it." He said. Just then, the waitress reappeared with their lunch. Neal started eating with gusto, but Peter didn't touch his. Neal looked up.

"It's not poisoned or anything." He said casually. Peter took a bite of sandwich, chewed, and swallowed.

"Happy?" He said. Neal nodded.

"Ecstatic." He said sarcastically. Peter leaned back in his chair.

"Now, what were you saying?" He asked. Neal finished the bite of croissant he had, then took a sip of wine.

"Not bad." He said, then looked up from the goblet. "Anyways, I just thought I'd let you know that Nate Westen has nothing to do with the Raphael." Neal said casually. Peter looked as though he was about to pop.

"How did you know we were investigating him?" Peter hissed. Neal shrugged and put a fifty on the table.

"Intuition." He said, then stood and walked out, stopping to talk to the other agents and give them Peter's wallet. Neal had a feeling that the agent wouldn't appreciate it in his present mood. He stepped into the dark van that was waiting a block away, and was greeted by stares from Sam and Fiona. Neal nodded.

"Phase one is complete." He said. Sam grinned while Fiona silently counted bullets.

"Good job. We should team up more often." Sam said, raising his beer in a toast. Neal gave a pained smile.

"I failed teamwork in kindergarten." He replied, then dropped in a chair. Cons like this always tired him out. Appearing casual and uncaring while really being alert and focused was difficult. He leaned his head back and dozed while Sam drove them to his and Mozzie's apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Sorry this took so long… Would you believe that my poor grandmother had a stroke and almost died? No? Well, it was worth a shot…**_

_**Disclaimer: Figured it was about time for one of these. Did you see me directing White Collar or Burn Notice? No? Didn't think so…**_

_Chapter 8_

'_Arabs'_

_**Apartment, New York**_

"Neal, why did you get mixed up with government people?" Mozzie hissed. Neal sighed, keeping an eye on Michael, Fiona, and Sam who were on the other side of the apartment.

"I told you, I didn't exactly have much of a choice. Besides, they aren't government people." He said. Mozzie held up a file folder triumphantly.

"Not according to my sources. Sam Axe over there is a retired SEAL, Michael Westen is a burned spy, and Fiona… Well she's the only one who isn't involved in the government, but she seems to enjoy blowing things up and selling guns to dangerous men. All in all, they're all nuts!" He said. Neal rolled his eyes.

"Listen Moz, this is beneficial for both parties. I get credit without being blamed, Michael's brother gets off the hook, and we get to mess with the FBI." Neal said, "it's one of those 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'." 

"Aristotle, right?" Sam called from across the room. Mozzie glared at him.

"No. It's an Arab proverb." He said through gritted teeth, then grabbed his jacket. "Let me know when the invasion is over." He told Neal, who gave a salute and watched him walk out before joining the others.

"What's wrong with your friend?" Fiona asked. Neal shrugged.

"He just doesn't really like strangers." He replied. The four of them started planning the next phase, which was going to be delicate.

_**FBI Office, New York**_

Peter Burke stared at his computer screen. He knew he was missing something, he just didn't know what. The cursor in the search box blinked rapidly, and seemed to contribute to his mind numbing. When Diana burst into his office, he jumped two inches off his chair. 

"Boss, we got a tip about the painting." She said. Peter stood.

"Who called it in?" He questioned. She shook her head.

"It was anonymous. When we traced the number it went to a payphone in Chinatown." She replied. Peter frowned.

"What's the tip?" He asked. She handed him the file in her hand.

"You're gonna love this." She promised. He flipped it open, then looked up, disbelief etched on his face.

"Seriously?" He said.

_**Miami, Florida**_

Neal Caffrey was in Michael's questionable apartment.

"This is where you live?" He asked. Michael looked up from where he was eating yogurt in a somewhat clean kitchen.

"Yep." He answered shortly. Neal raised a brow and looked around.

"What's up there?" He asked, motioning towards the staircase.

"My office." Michael replied. 

"More like his armory." Sam commented from where he fishing in the fridge. "You like beer?" Neal shook his head.

"No, I'm good." He replied.

"He's too good for beer." Fiona said from where she was sitting on the bed. Neal frowned. She had been throwing little slights like that at him the whole time driving to Miami and ever since they had arrived.

"Listen, if you have a problem with me, I'd like to know about it before we go through with this." He said calmly. She stood, a cat's smile on her face.

"Oh really?" She asked. Neal nodded.

"Well then, I think you are an egotistical, self-absorbed, stuck-up, know-it-all." She said, then took a deep breath. "I feel better now." She said with a sunny smile. Neal blinked a few times, trying to realign his thoughts. He had never been called that, except by guys. In fact, he hadn't been turned down since second grade.

"Fi, I think you put him into shock." Sam said from the kitchen. Neal gave a tight smile and shook his head.

"Ah, no. As a matter of fact, you may be right. Any suggestions on how to change?" He asked, hoping to win her over. She just took a sip of her beer.

"I hate conmen." She commented. Neal took a deep breath and sat down in a nearby chair.

"All right then."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

'Placement'

_**Museum of Art, New York**_

Neal donned a ski mask, rolling his eyes as he did so.

"Is this really necessary?" He complained quietly, earning a glare from Fiona. He decided to shut up then. After all, she had a gun. A big one. He sighed. He hated doing stuff like this, especially with a team. He led the way into the building, where everyone split up. He and Michael headed to where they would hang the painting in hand, Fiona and Sam to the security booth to monitor the footage. Within minutes, the deed was done. Once they were safely inside the van, Neal ripped off the ski mask and took a deep breath.

"Well, looks like our happy little family is about to break up." He commented. Fiona muttered something he didn't catch, and was rather happy about that.

"Yeah, well if you're ever in Miami, give us a call." Sam told him when they stopped in front of the apartment. Neal gave a mock salute before jumping out.

"Will do!" He said cheerfully, then watched as they drove away.

"He's crazy if he thinks I'm ever getting mixed up with them again." He muttered, then went up the walkway.

_**FBI Office, New York**_

"Let me get this straight. Someone broke in and placed our Raphael in the museum?" Peter asked, incredulous. Diana nodded, a serious look on her face.

"And you're not gonna believe who's the curator." She said. Peter ran a hand through his hair.

"Our tip." He guessed. She nodded. Peter sighed.

"All right, bring him in for questioning." He said. When she left, he stared out the window at the bustling city below him. He wouldn't be surprised if the curator had committed some petty crime, but the Raphael was Neal through and through. He shook his head.

"Until next time, Caffrey." He said softly. There was no doubt in his mind that the conman would get off for this one, but Peter would get him on the next one.

_**Neal's Apartment, New York**_

When Neal entered the apartment, Mozzie was sitting on the couch, his laptop in front of him.

"Hey Neal, I heard a Raphael turned up in the museum." He said. Neal shook his head.

"Don't worry, it was a forgery." He said reassuringly.

"Good. What do you think of Hong Kong?" He questioned. Neal grinned and hung up his coat.

"What's in Hong Kong?" He asked. Mozzie grinned as well.

"I thought you'd never ask."

The End


	10. NOT A CHAPTER: PLEASE READ ANYWAYS :D

Hey guys! So, this is NOT a chapter! I just wanted to let you know that I am putting out a sequel to this story: Federal Cooperation. I hope you read it! :D


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